a poem for today, 17 January 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of nine sentences and its image]
Only through communism can we come to experience our bodies again.
Despite the title this is not about finding your soul mate.
The preamble explains why this matters and where this is going.
This is non-reg, but the cops have better shit to worry about, especially when it doesn't impact the corporati.
Death is a black camel that kneels unbidden at every gate.
Frosties are just corn flakes for people who can't face reality.
If the tweetstorm is right, this is a pretty grim situation.
The ego is the theology of free enterprise.
All theory of knowledge has sexual connotations.
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